Head'n from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribe'd, their present state; From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer Being here below? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy Reason, would he skip and play? Pleas'd to the last, he crops the flow'Ry food, And licks the hand just rail'd to shed his blood. Oh, blindness to the future! Kindly give'n, That each may fill the circle mark'd by Head'n; Who sees with equal eye, as God of all, A hero perish, or a sparrow fall.